of ice and cherry blossoms
by envysparkler
Summary: The nine times he looked for what wasn't there, and the one time he saw what was. - Fuyuka/OC


**a/n:** after all the _enthusiasm_ i got from **of seashells and lavender candles** i decided it'd make it into a oneshot series, called **seeing is not looking is not watching**. this is the second one, and it's about suga/fuyuka. just cause.

**disclaimer:** i don't own inazuma eleven.

**dedication:** to those of us who look underneath the underneath.

**summary:** The nine times he looked for what wasn't there and the one time he saw what was. – Fuyuka/OC.

* * *

**of ice and cherry blossoms**

* * *

_they say that seeing is believing_

* * *

_**one**_

**S**uga hated the blue-eyed, purple-haired girl sitting innocently – _primly _– on the bench from the moment he saw her.

Suga was different – he wasn't like the rest of Anzen. Fudou didn't pick him off the streets or rescue him from gangs.

No, Suga had been the one who found Fudou.

It hadn't been easy being the sole heir and child of a billionaire, and Suga didn't often get to see his father. With no siblings around and too _'sophisticated'_ to play with other children, Suga spent most of his time with servants and nannies. His mother had died in childbirth, and until the age of eight, he was perfectly fine with that.

It was when he was eight that his father married gorgeous model Toshi Erika.

It was only then that he learned that women will use anything they have to get what they want.

Suga had run away when his father took him to an event in a small town, and that's where he found a six-year-old, hugging his knees and looking forlorn.

Suga told him that his mother tried to kill him.

Fudou told him that his father left.

That was the start of their friendship.

Seven years and multiple piercings and hair dyes later, and Suga wasn't recognizable from the others that populated Anzen. He had never told them what he used to be, and the beauty was that _no one asked_.

He was free, away from the suffocating influence of society, free as a vigilante on the streets, free to deal out justice the way _he_ saw it.

But he had never forgot the terrible price he had paid for his naïveté.

Women are _never_ to be trusted.

He had kept that in mind as he watched one of Fudou's games at the FFI, felt the lesson carved on his heart when he saw the purple-haired manager – not the blue. It was clear that the blue was Fudou's and Suga didn't eat off of others' plates – with her too innocent smile and her too fragile body and the too helpless look in her too blue eyes.

She had looked too breakable to live.

Still, Suga had hated her for walking the same earth as him.

* * *

_**two**_

**I**t had hurt like hell.

Everything had hurt, from his shattered ribs to the deep slash down his arm. Even his pride was in pieces.

Through the haze of painkillers, he had relived every moment of that terrible fight. Suga had realized only too late that what he had thought were a couple of doped druggies were in fact hired thugs.

He had made the worst decision only to end up in the hospital, along with the other four that had accompanied.

His fury had increased to epic proportions when he heard that three of his friends hadn't made it out alive. He was so angry that he cussed the hell out of the nurses even when the person he was so angry at was himself.

And when he had heard that Fudou's mother was in the hospital as well – he was supposed to be looking after her – his rage only kindled. Dragging himself to the airport, he delivered the news to Fudou in person, the look of shock in his eyes a punch in the gut.

Of course, Fudou had found out the severity of his injuries and ordered him back to the hospital. It was there that he saw her again, in a white nurse's outfit as she listened attentively to her mentor, the picture of an eager intern.

He had hated her even more.

* * *

_**three**_

**T**he third time Suga had seen the purple-haired girl – Fuyuka, he learned from Fudou – it was when he had accompanied the gamemaker on one of his weekly trips to Raimon.

Fudou was laughing and joking with them as if he had known them forever, and Suga had felt a pang of jealousy at seeing his friend – his _brother_ – being accepted so easily by them.

So sitting on the sidelines, he had watched them with their jibes and taunts, and all their boasting, scaring everyone away from him with his murderous aura. To his eternal surprise, someone – totally disregarding the large _'Stay. Away.'_ sign – had plopped down next to him, gave him a blinding smile and invited him to play with them.

Taken off guard, Suga had given a hesitant yes before realizing what he was doing and was promptly pushed in the direction of the club room, with instructions to change into a soccer uniform.

It was there, fumbling around the room, that he had run into her. She must've been searching for a notebook, because she was reaching to where a collection of books were piled precariously on the top of a closet.

Suga had felt a dark resentment simmering just under the surface. This girl was the embodiment of everything he hated; the way she spoke, the way she acted, the way she looked, and yet her fragile innocence awoke a deep protective instinct inside of him.

Cursing inside his head, Suga had stepped closer, his toned body caging her against the metal closet – the dark part of his heart rejoicing as she faltered, her heart stopping for a beat before increasing its pace, a fiery blush painting her cheeks – before reaching easily for the notebook.

She turned, looking so small, cornered up against the steel, trapped by him, her wide, wide eyes looking at him with no small measure of fear, _seeing_ his piercings, his tattoos, his hair color and not _looking_ at anything underneath.

Suga had handed her the notebook and walked out without a word.

* * *

_**four**_

**I**t was a test of his _own_ naïveté, how he hadn't seen Fudou's depression, hadn't heard his friend's heartfelt pleas, hadn't noticed the nothingness lining his eyes until Fudou casually remarked that he wanted to take his own life.

Immediately, Suga had dived for the phone, his fingers dialing a number he had watched the mohawked boy dial many times before.

_- "Hello, Otonashi residence, Fuyuka speaking," a cheerful voice came through the receiver. Suga cursed. Now, of all times, when his focus should be centered on his best friend, he still felt the old loathing rear its head._

"_Can I talk to Haruna?" he said quickly, hoping the girl would just hand over the phone and be done with it. Instead, the crackling line was filled with the various background noises as he presumed she put him on speaker._

_He could practically _feel_ her disapproving frown through the phone._

"_Who is this?" Haruna sounded suspicious, wary._

"_It's Suga," he tried to elaborate quickly, from what he heard from Fudou, his maybe-girlfriend wasn't exactly a patient person, "Something's wrong with Fudou. He came back from classes at lunch, muttering something about a guy named Genda, and the school that hated him. Nearly two minutes ago, he said that he understood the lure of suicide."_

_There was a gasp on the other end of the line and he could hear Haruna's voice, tightly reined in by fury, "I'll be there in an hour." He heard more rustling and, presuming she had walked away, was about to cut the call before Fuyuka spoke up._

_Her voice was gentle, sweet, and – try as he might – Suga couldn't find any trace of the venom that had haunted his stepmother's tone._

"_Remind him that life is worth living for." –_

However, it didn't look like Suga had any reminding to do at all, in the end.

* * *

_**five**_

**S**uga had seen the blue-eyed manager many times in the months that followed, as Fudou's gangs merged with his teams, and he slowly began discarding the preconceptions he had had about her kind.

She didn't deceive behind a innocent façade, she truly was as pure as the snow that had given her, her name.

She didn't lie behind her sweet words, but meant every thing she said, speaking from the bottom of her heart.

Her touch was gentle, her eyes curious, the very air around her smelled sweeter and seemed lighter.

She was incorruptible.

Unfortunately, the twisted side of Suga's mind, the part that had been boiled in grief and severed with deceit, poisoned by his stepmother's lies and mauled by his father's betrayal, had been fascinated by this.

He wanted to destroy her, just to see how hard she'd scream.

He could tell that Fuyuka had noticed something was wrong. It was the little things, the way he dangled an apple teasingly out of reach, how he cornered her and stared at her, as if trying to burn her with his gaze, how his eyes mockingly trailed down her puritan uniform, how he ignited fears deep inside of her.

He was slowly breaking her, piece by fucking piece.

However, Fuyuka hadn't discovered the extent of Suga's strange enthrallment until a rainy day when he showed up on her doorstep, disgustingly drunk.

* * *

_**six**_

**H**e hadn't known where he was trying to go with this, but he pressed his hand on the doorbell, not letting go, reveling in the piercing wails as he took a swig from his empty bottle and stared at it, disappointed.

He had heard the sound of running footsteps and stumbled away from the door, waiting with baited breath to see who would answer the door.

He hadn't recognized whose porch he decided to camp out on, but he was in a strange mood that night. His father had been on TV, the latest in a series of disturbing domestic murders, the most recent spouse-killer had been Toshi Erika. Trying to drink away his troubles had landed him here, with a blackness growing in his heart, and alcohol-dulled rage just out of reach.

He had needed to yell at someone, rant and scream at them, shatter them and smash the pieces, choke them just to see what shade of blue they'd turn.

Fuyuka opened the door and for a moment, both stared at each other, one bewildered by surprise, the other convinced by darkness.

_- "Suga?" Fuyuka asked, blinking her eyes to make sure, "Is that you?"_

_Suga smiled, a slow, scary sort of smile, one that leisurely spread across his face. He dropped the bottle, ignoring the crash as the glass splintered, staggering his way towards her. She instantly moved back, out of the doorway, away from the overpowering smell of beer on his breath, alarm creeping its way back in as she watched him enter her house._

"_Suga?" she tried again, "Suga, what are you doing here?" The boy – nearly a man – didn't answer, focusing on not tripping over the doormat. He was – had always been – sort of cruel to her, but she thought that was just in his nature, a part of the shield he had put up._

_But this was taking things too far._

"_Suga," she said firmly, stopping her retreat, "You have to leave, now. My parents aren't home."_

_It was only when he met her eyes that she realized what a huge mistake she had made._

"Perfect_," he smirked; stalking towards her as she practically turned and ran towards the staircase. It was no use, he followed her, faltering at the stairs but managing to climb them in time to shot a foot out to block her from slamming her bedroom door shut._

"_Why are you running from me, Fu – yu – ka~?" he taunted, pushing the door so hard that she fell backwards, "Don't you _like_ me?" She quickly climbed back onto her feet, her eyes desperately searching for an escape route. He advanced, determined not to let her leave._

_Grabbing her hair, he pulled, causing tears to well up in her eyes as she blindly clawed at him, trying to get him to let go. Laughing, in a high-pitched voice that didn't feel like his, he grabbed her arm roughly before pushing her back so that she fell on the bed._

"_Come on, Fuyuka," he grinned before staggering towards her, "Aren't you the one that let me in?" Her eyes widened as she saw him coming, realizing what he intended to do to her. _

_She weakly crawled back and opened her mouth to scream – only to have it muffled by a calloused hand as Suga teetered onto the bed. "Bad Fuyuka," he scolded, like she was some sort of dog, "Naughty Fuyuka, to invite me in, then _tease_ me." He purred into her ear, before running a finger down her bare arm._

"_Please, stop," Fuyuka whimpered as he began tracing circles on the inside of her wrist, "Suga, stop." She never thought she would stoop to pleading, but it was her only avenue of escape. Suga was obviously not in his right mind – though she wouldn't doubt that he would've done the same thing even if he was completely sober._

"_Aww," Suga's harsh breaths fell on her neck, causing a shiver to run down her spine as he lost his balance and tumbled to the bed, bringing her down with him in a tangle of limbs. "Never thought that Fuyuka-chan could _beg_," he crooned in her ear, the circles he traced going higher up her arm as Fuyuka prayed to every god she knew._

_She was nowhere near strong enough to push him off of her, and everything she said seemed to either make him mad, or twist into dirty connotations. The circles he burned into her arm with his icy fingers were at her shoulders now, skipping across the strap of the flimsy tank top she had worn. "Wonder what other tricks the little bitch is hiding," he murmured, his words taking on a dark undertone._

_His fingers reached her collarbone and Fuyuka snapped; the fear, the cold terror creeping up on her and freezing her body so that she couldn't move and bringing rising panic down on her._

"Please_," the one word was uttered in hopelessness, half-strangled by horror and hysteria._

_To her surprise, someone heeded her prayers, and Suga passed out from the excess of alcohol overwhelming his system, his arms still a iron cage around her, his fingers still threatening her throat. –_

Suga awoke in an unfamiliar room patterned with cherry blossoms, with no recollection of the past night, with a peaceful Fuyuka curled up in his arms, looking like she had always belonged there.

* * *

_**seven**_

**S**uga had followed the girl into the kitchen, his head a pounding mess, wondering how in hell he had ended up in _her_ house, of all places.

Pausing before he had stepped over the threshold, he mutely took the mug that Fuyuka passed to him – a simple, plain ceramic one, with a single _sakura_ blossom unfolding in the front – and gulped down the contents, burning hot black coffee.

He had winced at the acrid taste it had seared into his throat – Suga was more of a tea person, and iced tea at that – but nevertheless, sent the girl a half-smile in thanks as his headache eased.

Fuyuka had frozen in the process of buttering toast and Suga could see her wide, wide eyes look at him in disbelief before turning back to the toast so fast that he could see the whiplash.

Moving to the sink, Suga had cleaned the mug – if nothing else, Fudou had taught them _manners_ – and dried it, watching her curiously. Half a minute later, she presented him with a plate of toast, her cheeks flamingly red.

_- "You need to eat something," she explained nervously, twisting a strand of her unusual hair around a finger, "The food will absorb the alcohol, and lessen your hangover." Her tone may have been skittish, but the words were confident, delivered with the precise knowledge of someone studying the medical sciences._

_Suga took the plate from her but made no move to it, instead looking at her suspiciously, "Why am I here?"_

"_I – um – you showed up," Fuyuka wrung her hands and didn't meet your gaze, "And I – uh – didn't want to leave you outside – so – um – yeah," she finished lamely, cementing Suga's belief that something had happened._

_But, well, if she wasn't going to spit it out, Suga would ignore her. He never enjoyed mind-fuckery, it opened a whole new can of worms that he didn't have the time or the patience to deal with. –_

Scarfing down the toast and sighing in relief as the pain ebbed away, he had cleaned his plate and turned to her. Fuyuka was standing away from him, cutting strawberries for what he assumed was her breakfast, so he had lightly grabbed her arm to catch her attention.

Her reaction was nothing short of illuminating.

She had screamed, turning to him, her hands raised defensively, her eyes tightly shut in fear, a quiet resignation in every stress line on her face. The knife had clattered to the floor at his feet and Suga had dropped his arm as if her skin had burned him.

Now he knew.

Swallowing the bile that threatened to rise into his throat, he had knelt down and picked up the knife, placing it carefully next to the sliced strawberries, as Fuyuka watched him with fear, her heart beating so loud that Suga could hear it over his renewed migraine.

Muttering thanks, he left, walking out the front door, feeling sick to his stomach with not alcohol or his father's death, but the terrified look on a face that should have worn only gentle smiles, and the self-loathing that had spread from his very core.

* * *

_**eight**_

**S**uga had avoided her like the plague after that incident, choosing to enroll in Tokyo's police program, working through vacations and refusing requests to go back.

He was older than Fudou, therefore turning eighteen before the rest of Anzen, and the brown-haired, gray-eyed boy knew he couldn't keep his best friend by his side forever, but it was a depressed town he left for the city. Fudou had understood; some part of him, deep down, had known what had happened that day, when Suga showed up the morning after his father's death, the guilty secret as clear as day.

He had understood that Suga didn't want to see her, or even hear her name, ever again. Didn't want to tag along on Fudou's visits to Raimon, didn't want to stay at home and wait for the probability that the next time Haruna came over, she would bring her friends with her.

Suga had thrown himself in his job, burying himself in work as his penance, his duty to her, his way of dissolving the guilt that festered in his heart.

When he had seen Fudou, running away from commitment and responsibility, fearful of not living to people's expectation even after what he had done with Anzen, destroying a girl's heart as Suga had once wished to do, he had been furious.

He had told Fudou exactly what he needed to hear, the most cutting, piercing jab he could find. He spat the line that Fudou had given him the first time they met, when billionaire heir and abandoned urchin talked.

_- "No child should grow up without a father." –_

Unfortunately, as a consequence of his meddling, Suga was required to attend their wedding as best man, to watch as _she_ walked down the aisle in a dress of the purest blue, an outfit that screamed of the ice of winter, the icicles that wrapped their choking embrace around everything alive, yet retained the innocence they possessed.

At least this time, they had both been drunk. At least this time, _Fuyuka_ had been the one that had seduced _him_. At least this time, Suga had remembered exactly what had happened.

Though he wasn't altogether sure where the _sakura_ tattoo had come from.

* * *

_**nine**_

**L**ife fell into an easy routine after that. Fuyuka was studying in Tokyo University for her nursing degree, and Suga would pick her up, every day, when his shift ended.

She had often complained about his dangerous job, commenting on his risk-taking behavior, and launching into long anecdotes about which chronic disease he most personified. He, doing his dutiful job as a boyfriend, had proceeded to kiss the wits out of her whenever she ranted and avoid the blow from whatever heavy book was within her reach.

It had been peaceful, punctuated with anger and rage – on her part – and painkiller-induced cuddling – on his part – whenever he slipped up on a raid and ended up in her hospital.

It was too peaceful.

Suga could tell that she wanted something _more_ from him, a lasting commitment in the eyes of god and a promise tied to the stars.

He knew this, and he tried; going to Kagami's to buy a pretty ring – he wasn't Fudou, who apparently had an unlimited family heirlooms – finding a diamond cut in the shape of a cherry blossom, knowing it was her favorite. He did little things, like wake her up with a delicious breakfast, or surprise her with a bouquet of flowers to lead up to it, but – each time – he had lost his nerve.

He loved her, from the bottom of his heart, but he couldn't help but feel that their love was like the cherry blossom he was twisting in his hands.

Beautiful, ethereal, stunning when in full bloom, trees on end filled with the pale pink flower. But the petals died within a week, spring's great herald passing as quickly as it came.

The only way the petals were preserved even now, in late April, was that he had bought them at an exorbitant price from someone who had frozen them in ice to conserve their short-lived beauty.

A small smile had quirked his lips as Suga regained his confidence.

_Sakura_ in ice.

What a fitting metaphor.

* * *

_**ten**_

**S**uga was nervous now, pacing from one side of the tiny apartment they shared, to the other. The velvet box was in his hands, the _sakura_ petals strewn across the floor, the snowflake decorations from Christmas, tacked on the walls.

What if he was reading the signs wrong? What if she actually didn't like him? What if – Suga gulped – what if she rejected him?

Showing his promise to her like this, showing her how much he had grown from the devastated little boy that had learned to shun female affection, showing her how he had broken his prejudice was possibly the biggest thing that he had done for a girl.

Suga stopped pacing as muffled curses came from outside the door, his face paling, his hands clutched tightly around the box. Fuyuka stomped in, depositing her bursting-at-the-seams bag near the door, muttering something about a horrid professor and bitchy girls.

Then she took in the decorations lining the walls, her eyes going wide as only her eyes could.

Suga made a half-strangled noise in the back of his throat and moved forward before he lost his courage. Kneeling at her feet – comprehension slowly dawned in Fuyuka's blue-blue eyes – he opened the box shakily, looking into the very eyes he once scorned for their innocence.

"Ono Fuyuka, will you," – his mouth was dry, his words a nervous rasp – "Will you do me the honor of marrying me?" Suga swallowed nervously, eying her warily.

She slowly knelt on the floor, facing him, looking at the ring that sparkled inside the box, taking in the cherry blossom petals and glittering snowflakes. A tear glinted at the corner of her eye and Suga brushed it away, panicked, "Fuyuka, don't cry, ple-"

His words were cut off as she launched herself at him, the tears streaming down her cheeks, laughing and hugging him, and shouting _'yes'_ over and over again. She beamed at him, her cheeks stained with salty liquid, her eyes brighter than normal and leaned down to kiss him, sealing her words by her actions, _showing_ him just how much she loved him.

Suga smiled against her lips. He had looked for corruption so many times, and she had only shown him love.

For the first time, he looked at only what she selflessly gave.

* * *

**le –**

* * *

"Out of curiosity, if I had said no, then what would you have done?"

"Kicked you out on the streets."

"I – what – I AM NOT MARRYING YOU!"

"Stupid woman. Do you know how expensive _sakura_ blossoms are?"

"I don't care. Here, have your stupid ring back."

"Do you know how _difficult_ it is to find them? It's a testament to my love that I didn't give up after the first flower vendor gave me a patronizing smile and told me they were out of season [as if I didn't know]."

"You can keep your testaments to yourself too. I'm leaving, so by – mmphf!"

"Oh, you're not going _anywhere_ tonight."

* * *

- **fin**

* * *

**a/n:** well, i finished this. hope you like it. enjoy! btw, these little oneshots are fun to make. expect more of them in the future!


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